I originally made my slogan for my lucrative career in sales. It hung above my desk in that bold impact font. You can’t sell something with fear or pride. You have to be this whimpering fool begging for a sale or you’ll starve to death. But you can’t let anyone know you are whimpering fool. If you do you look like a pathetic whiner, then no one will buy anything from you. You have to be confident and ooze charisma while secretly, on the inside, you’re crying.

I got rid of pride because I don’t really care what anyone thinks about me. Unless of course my hair’s messed up or my fly is down or something is stuck in my teeth. And fear was kinda pointless because what’s really to fear besides AIDS, random gun violence, and facebook addiction? Okay, so maybe pride and fear have their places. The jury is still out. Maybe we should have some sort of governmental department of concerned citizens to debate the merits of these things along with honor, political correctness, and internet smilies :). We’ll call it the Department Of Personality Enforcement, or DOPE, for short.

I swear I was going somewhere with this…

Oh yeah, the church. Pride. Fear. I should construct some sort of coherent thought out of this. At least I thought I should a coupl’a minutes ago. Upon further consideration the matter looks to cause unnecessary trouble…but what are church magazines for?

I was talking with this fella the other day. A maniac. Going on and on about the queers and those dern Nazi liberals and the ongoing slaughter of the nation’s unborn. The whole planet was at risk. The church was being overrun and corrupted by evolutionary theory and Nancy Pelosi’s private jet. Civilization, or what was left of it, was on the verge of collapse which most likely would result in worldwide genocide of the nation’s Protestants or some-such. The guy was a nut. The guy owned a lot of fear. You can buy the stuff cheap on Ebay, I hear. This guy bought it by the case load.

I don’t know what you can do about this sort of thing. If you hold this perspective it has to be coupled with unrelenting religious legalism. No one can enter the temple without some sort of ceremonial cleansing. Which brings up the question: Will baptism cleanse the Democrat off of you? And if not, should there be trials by fire? And, if trials by fire are required, should we charge admission?

All of those are fine and dandy questions. Maybe, if we thunk on it really, really hard we could answer them. And if not, we’ll send it to DOPE who is sure to have loads of idle time.

But these kinds folks produce another set of people I equally fear. I guess in some attempt to erase perceived radical legalism there’s a whole new crop of Christians. Christians who want to open the door to anything and anyone. The Bible no longer is the inerrant word of God, religious pluralism should be the norm, God is really a vegan. Who knew?

I was talking to friend, we’ll call her Joan the Priest because that’s who she is. And for a female priest at an independent Progressive Catholic Church we agree a lot (though not all the time.). Do we really want a church that is so open that God doesn’t really matter? When does a Christian church begin to not be Christian anymore? The Conservatives bar the doors so no-one can come in and the lefties take the doors off the hinges and knock down the walls while they’re at it. Do people want to come to church where they don’t feel welcome? And if we get rid of God so people feel welcome, will anyone come? To answer both, I don’t think so. Why come to church because it’s good for the neighborhood with it’s soup kitchens and tree hugger bumper-stickers and advocacy of women’s rights? Those things might be swell but you don’t need to come to church for them. All of those are widely available outside of church sanctuaries. People come to church to seek God. The church should be there to help people find their way. You cannot accomplish that mission by selecting pre-approved converts. And you certainly cannot do it by making gospel-less disciples.

I know there are many moderates at church. I’m not talking about political moderates, but moderates of a different stripe. Those who see the need to open up the doors gently, with much humility, and maybe even a little chagrin. We might still fear but the amazing thing about humility is that it understands priorities. We might not agree on the role or women in the church or the much overhyped state of sexual orientation or whether or not white privilage is a pressing issue within American social structures. We don’t necessarily need to. We need to begin agreeing where it matters most: Within our own hearts and congregations to meet the spiritual and physical needs of those whom we serve and worship with. But to do that fear of the unknown and our own issues of pride need to be put aside.

Will you join me in gently opening the doors? Refilling our baptismals? Welcoming the oppressor and the oppressed alike? I look forward to it.

If not, will you prayerfully appeal to God before you tie me up and send me off DOPE?

Number 1: Men want women who are hot. Of course, you knew this. But here’s the thing, we don’t woman who are too hot. Okay, okay, sure…we like hot chicks. But while we all want to be in Inara’s bed, it’s Kaylee who’s getting the ring. Hot, but cute. The fact is, Inara tries real hard, which means she’s high maintenance. But Kaylee is cute as button covered in Engine grease. (15 points)

Number 2: Men want a quest. Whether we have to find April’s copy of Jane Eyre or help Selene kill William. We need something impossible to do. Sure, we might fail and you might laugh at us. So whether it’s win your heart or conquer the world…we’re willing. *Just don’t ask us to do the dishes*. (40 points - and an extra 40 point bonus is you can name the movie that Selene starred in with a similar plot to finding that copy of Jane Eyre.)

Number 3: Men want a friend. Every Clyde needs his Bonnie (not a pop-culture reference). Maybe you’re Paula to my Tripp and you want to go sailing around the world with me; or I’m you’re Sam who doesn’t care that you’re whacked out in the head and have the name of a summer month spelled incorrectly. Baby, we gotta have some fun and you gotta be my friend. (30 points. Hint for second reference: Headless, Pirate, Scissors)

Number 4: You gotta let me do what I think I gotta do. Okay, I know I was Batman’s sidekick and our daughter doesn’t want me to leave town. But it’s 1934 and work is scarce so I head out to seek a new fortune before we lose our house. You gotta let me do what I think is best, especially when the poo hits the fan, even if I might be wrong. (20 points)

Number 5: Domestic help. It seems trite and old skool but remember how I always leave my socks on the floor and the decor at my apartment before marriage consisted of a three year old Dilbert calender and a life size doll of the most hated Gungan? Look honey, I know you aren’t June Cleaver, but Kitty Forman would be a help. (30 points)

Number 6: I need a strong woman. You can’t be strong/cold, you need to be strong/warm. Michael Biehn was impressed with his dark haired, tough as nails leading lady. But she had a heart of gold and a strong maternal instinct who took control when cowardly bearucrats failed. And he also loved his dark haired, inquisitive waitress who let go of her fear. But that same woman, about 12 years later, turned out to be a cold heartless bitch. Luckily, he was dead so he couldn’t complain. (This is a doozy. 40 points. Name all three movies directed by the same man.)

Number 7: We need someone who brings out the best in us. Remind us who we are and believe. Arwyn never gave up and tried to make her man remember who was the king. We need our Holly who, though we might be on the fringes of divorce, will still make me kill endless swarms of terrorists and run barefoot over glass. A good woman will bring out who we are in the inside. (15 points)

Well, that’s all I have. Men are simple. As you can see, most movie references involve men who kill things. That either says something pathetic about Hollywood or the movies I choose to watch. I hope you have an excellent Valentine’s day and spend it with the man/woman of your preference. If all goes well, and very Hollywood-like, you’ll end up happily ever after after watching your comrades get killed by huge insects who hurl rocks at Earth. (15 points)

For several months I’ve been making posts that suggest (though I don’t think I’ve said it), that the idea that people are somehow different than they were before is probably a little idealist. I don’t think people are progressive (as in, moving forward or evolving either physically or emotionally/spiritually/physcologically). Perhaps the best time I’ve come out and said it would be the shit-disrupter of a post I made on Christarchy, Humanity on the Fringes of a Moshpit. Essentially, in a long winded tirade, I compare the progressive anarchist/art-school kids to the famed large browed Geico Spokesmen. Such a thing was a dare, especialy among my more liberally minded brethern. But I did it. I did it because I don’t think humanity is really all that different than it was 2,000 years ago. Or 4,000. Or 6,000. We can pretend lots of things, like those people back then were all stupid, ignorant, inbred maruaders, raping the land for everything it was worth. Besides for the inbred thing, I don’t think we are far removed.

News from the front of our progressive world:

Bedraggled, hungry and dazed, the refugees arrived on the shores of Thailand after fleeing one of the most repressive governments in the world — the hard-line military regime in Myanmar, also known as Burma.

…

CNN’s investigation — based on accounts from tourists, sources in Thailand and a Rohingya refugee who said he was on a boat towed back out to sea — helps to piece together a picture of survival thwarted by an organized effort not just to repel arriving refugees, but to hold them prisoner on shore, drag them in flimsy boats far out to sea and then abandon them.

…

“Whenever someone raised their head or moved, they [guards] would strike them with a whip,” said Australian tourist Andrew Catton.

…

[A surviving refugee] said all six boats with their refugee cargo were towed back out to sea in January, and five of the six boats sank. His boat made it back to shore, and he hid in the jungle for days until nearby villagers captured him.

Okay, the lowdown is these Burmese (they’ll always be Burmese to me. I once had a lovely Burmese girlfriend. Her father was a refugee here. He had a price on his head in Burma.) flee Myanmar in little boats. They wind up in Thailand in these little boats where the locals think they are a nuisance. Then, the military comes in, rounds ‘em up, and leaves them on the beach baking in the hot sun where they get whipped. (I guess a whipping is better than death in Myanmar…) Then, the military gets some of their boats and tows the boats out…far out…TWO FUCKING’ DAYS OUT INTO INTERNATIONAL WATERS! Then, they leave ‘em there. Then, they deny that they did it.

Five of the six boats sink and all the people die. Thailand’s official response is that they have no idea that their own military was responsible for such thing.

I’ve lived on a boat for 3 weeks. And while I cannot claim to know all about life on the water, I do know that being in the middle of the ocean in an overcrowded boat falls clearly into the “bad thing” category. I suspect that this is kinda common knowledge. I kinda think that the Thai folks sorta, kinda knew it, maybe. Perhaps. And that they might have had some sort of sneakin’ suspicion that these people might not be comin’ back (or going anywehere). Which makes me think that some folks in the Thai government could be, well, assholes.

Or, maybe not.

This kinda thing has been going on a long, long time. The more I think about it, the more I think we are all very, very capable of such a thing. Not sorta capable, where something deep down inside us is just waiting to show its evil self. No, I think from birth we might be fighting this sort of malicious selfishness everyday. Everyday we hunger to take those who tread upon our own perceived rights (in this case, the refugees kinda being a pain in the ass) and cast them off to sea to die.

Given the right set of circumstances (an empty beach, a people no one cares about) and the right tools (guns, boats, whips), I think we might all very well do something, well, similar.

If I seem really cynical, perhaps. But I gotta think. This sort of thing is not an abnormality in the human race. This, as I mentioned earlier, is a story that repeats and repeats and repeats and transcends matters of race, religion, geographic location, etc, etc…all except…well, gender.

Let’s face it. Anyone doubt an overwhelming under-representation of female Thai soldiers on that beach? Some kids wind up dead somewhere or a guy gets gang attacked or some female store employee gets shot at point blank range in a stickup. These are crimes of men, nearly universally. Sorry ladies, when it comes to malicious, senseless violence us men win every time. (You gals suck at this sort of thing. Practice makes perfect.)

So call me crazy, I don’t see a lot of change in humanity. It’s probably a sin problem goin’ back to the garden. The same needs and wants and urges seem to drive the person, and if that’s the case, how do you expect the people to change?

My friends have tried to pin me down politically for a long time. A libertarian? A Republican? A Democrat? Progressive? Classically Liberal? Maybe.

I think there’s one term that sums up my cynicism, fiscally conservative (REpublican), socially liberal viewpoints (proGRESSIVE). For now, call me “REGRESSIVE“.

(For the record, A person’s political idealologies are probably not as important as if that same someone drags refugess out to sea to die. I think the latter transcends party affiliation. In short, party affiliation is really, kinda worthless.)

It’s about 13 degrees outside. It’s Saturday. And we have to leave at 9 am to get to Philly by noon because Obama is taking Amtrak from Philly, to Wilmington, then landing in my hometown of Baltimore. It’s usually a 90 minute trip but we expect the I-95 corridor to be packed.

We stop at the Chesapeake House, a modern truck stop up in no-man’s land Maryland for band essentials, most notably coffee. I also notice my supply of Camel Lights is running rather low. And there he is, the Obamessiah, live from Philly, talking to a crowd on the TV. I can’t hear him because the volume is off in the truck stop. I wonder why it’s even on. I also notice that there seems to be a lot of African Americans in the truck stop this morning. Maybe headed to Wilmington or south, to Baltimore. I’m staring at Barack and I just sort of take him in. I get to look at him, not hear him. Barack sure is handsome, tall, he seems confident. And, yeah, he’s black. But not too black, not truly black. He’s not really, really black, if you get me. He’s black enough, I s’pose. (This isn’t my perception, rather, my perception of other’s perceptions. I guess this is a bad way to perceive things. But the human race has always perceived the way others perceive things so…..what the hell was I talking about????)

We head out the door and find the truck, pile in like a bunch of drunk teenagers. Ah, Cecil County. Someone mentions that the Klan started here. Ya know, THE Klan. If you mention the Klan it’s like mentioning the pill. No one ever asks “What pill?” or “What Klan?”. We think it funny that Obama’s train is coming right through Klan country. We utter jokes that probably should not be in print. You get us together and our collective IQ drops about 175 points. I try my best to keep the boys in line.

Did I mention how frickin’ cold it is? I have about 2% body fat and I freeze instantly. Driving up to Philly we pass an Amtrak station with about 100 people standing out there holding Obama signs. The Obamessiah is coming. On train. Donkeys are so 32 AD. It’s 13 degrees outside and these folks, these folks that we allowed to vote, are standing outside waiting to view a train as it speeds by. I’m not in favor of IQ tests to obtain voter registration cards, but perhaps some sort of easy questionaire should suffice. Questions could include:

It’s cold as a witch’s tit outside. The new president is on train. Do you A) Stand on the platform waving a sign as a train passes by at 200 MPH that produces a windgust that makes it feel colder than Pluto’s third moon? or B) Go home and watch Obama’s speech on TV while the people outside freeze to death; you drink hot cocoa and flip to sports center?

I mean, one of those is really obvious to me.

I was in a book store a couple weeks ago and I saw a book about US presidents. And there he was, Obama’s mug on the very front. The little city garden center at the end of my block? The one that is run by the foreign guys and the place used to be a gas station? Yeah, that guy is selling Obama T-Shirts. The cover of Newsweek two weeks ago? Obama getting off a plane with the caption: “How to fix the world”. Holy shit! Fix the World? Someone has a plan for that? The insinuation is obvious: The world can be fixed, Obama could, perhaps, maybe, do it.

I’ve never seen so much focus on a president elect, ever. I doubt there has ever been. Maybe this is a product of the 24 hour news cycle. Maybe people are just happy that King George is finally leaving the Oval Office. Maybe I’m out of my head and Obama is gonna bring about world peace, and feed every mouth, and give everyone a puppy. Anything is possible.

All I’m sayin’ is maybe we should give the man year and see what he does. Let’s us, I dunno, use the virtue of patience or sumptin’ and wait and see. Wait and see. I think we got a hymn called “Wait and See” or maybe it’s “Taste and See”. Whatever. Maybe we should see what the guy does for a while before annointing him with oil and giving him the gold scepter and our firstborn sons.

Some of my friends, good democrat friends, heard me talkin’ this and asked if I would be happier had McCain won. Well, no. I’m not talking about McCain. I’m just sayin, the man hasn’t done nothin’ yet and the hordes are standing in 13 degree weather to watch his train go by. Isn’t that, I dunno, a little excessive? It’s like that woman who kept bleeding who wanted to touch Jesus. “If only I can touch his robe I’ll stop bleeding.” “Oh, if only I can see his train the values of hope and change will cleanse my soul.”

I’m just askin’ for a reality check for a moment. Didn’t Bush run a platform on fiscal conservatism and reducing military intervention in foreign affairs and a return to state’s rights? And what did he give us? A police state, two wars, no child left behind, reduced taxes and increased spending. The exact opposite of everything he said. Maybe Obama will be different.

If Obama can fix a couple things; healthcare, the economy, illegal immigration, and the war, then I’ll be happy. I don’t care who does it. A republican. A democrat. A couple stoned gay dudes and a rabid penguin. I don’t give a shit. All I’m asking for is a little patience. Look, if the guy ends the war or cures AIDs or invents the internet…cram those station platforms. Be my guest. In the meantime, when that new stimulus check comes in, I gonna buy a reality check for some folks.

War:
In an ideal world only men would fight in wars and only women would declare them.

Illegal Immigration:
People keep crossing the borders for crappy jobs. Meanwhile, we have lots of people on welfare here. I propose allowing one working Latino into the United States in exchange for one person on welfare. This way, our country will be filled with productive people who work while nothing much will change in Mexico.

The whole ‘gay’ thing:
The gays want to get married. Some people seemingly want them to be miserable. Marriage has made plenty of straight people miserable for thousands of years. Am I the only one who sees the “win-win” solution here?

The Economy:
We keep printing money to pay our bills which causes inflation. I say we print enough to make all Americans millionaires, then we can all buy Japanese made cars and large screen TVs. Hopefully no other nation we owe money to will notice fast enough to stop us.

The Bailout:
Our nation wants to give billions of dollars to the private sector to prevent it’s collapse. I don’t know the short or long term consequences of such an action. Yet, the more I think about it, we should just hand these companies over to convicts in federal prison on charges of fraud and stuff. That way we can at least point at our ineptness and brag about how our white collar crooks can out-cheat other nation’s white collar crooks. We kicked their collective ass in olympics, we should make some attempt to get a head-start on overall crookedness as well.

The Schools:
Johnny can’t read, it’s true. But considering I bought my first dimesack in highschool I figure Johnny can probably do math. The country wants drugs, high-schools have hydroponics labs and bored teenagers. I sense a new type of on the job training in our nations schools; which is what our children need.

The war on drugs:
I keep hearing that the drug war has gone nowhere. It locks up criminals who are not dangerous and costs the nation billions of dollars annually. See above.

Healthcare:
Lots of people cannot get healthcare. In countries with universal healthcare it costs too much and there are long lines. I propose a new type of universal healthcare by breaking the country into a caste system.
-Group D will receive no healthcare because our country would actually benefit from the deaths of those in Group D. Such people for group D are politicians, lawyers, and telemarketers.
-Group C would receive limited healthcare because they provide no benefits to society but do not cause any harm. Group C would be filled with Circuit City employees, rude McDonalds cashiers, and parking garage attendants.
-Group B would receive good healthcare with a minimum wait because they provide a beneficial service. Machine Operators, Mechanics, and anyone who works for Little Debbie Snack Cakes.
-Group A provides valuable, necessary services to society on the whole and would receive immediate top notch care. People in Group A would be engineers, people who clean public restrooms, and prositutes.
Clearly you can see how this type of system would both freeup healthcare services, cost us very little, and move forward America’s standing in the world on social and economic issues.

Foreign Policy
Foreigners don’t speak english so I don’t see why their problems are our problems. Maybe if they got a grasp on our language I’d actually listen to them. Until then, their problems fall on deaf ears. Tough luck, there, Paco.

Homelessness:
Once I was out for a walk and a homeless guy asked me for some cash. I gave him, like, four bucks. After I left my buddy was like “Hey, he’s just gonna spend that on booze.” I guess that’s a good point. Then again, that was what I was gonna use that four bucks for too. Why pass judgement?

There are more issues, I guess. But I only got four, maybe eight years to see them done. I don’t want to, ya know, over burden myself or anything. If you have any solutions or questions please ask away and I’ll respond with snide, arrogant remarks.

This is the Fox network, the network that, when drama doesn’t exist enough for the producers, they go ahead and make it up. Young married couples on an island with a bunch of hot singles. The screaming, shrieking Gordon Ramsey. The Fox network, God bless ‘em, takes decent ideas for shows and makes the dramatic effect linger like a sky-diver in mid-air. Then they find talent to pump that drama up. It’s all really unnecessary. The material is good, let it be.

But here we are. “I haven’t been entirely truthful with you…” “…” “…” “…” “…” “I’m really a multi-millionaire.” SHA-BANG! And, lo-and-behold, the victims of what Fox believes to be a cruel joke could give two shits. Who would? The lying millionaire has been a part of their lives for six whole days.

Okay, I guess I got a little ahead of myself. The Secret Millionaire is a show on Fox in which a millionaire pretends to be poor for less than a week then finds poor people to give one hundred grand to. In this instance, a young businessman goes to a battered women’s shelter. He’ll meet people, work with the volunteers, and decide how to split up the booty come day six.

I like the premise. It reminds me of that feel good show “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition” where Ty and company find some poor saps stuck in a home filled with mold or abestos and build them a new one in seven days. How can you not like this touchy feely stuff? I like that TV doesn’t have to be all guns and tits all the time. The idea that we can help people is kinda the premise of The Secret Millionaire, and I gotta give props to it, but something sits poorly with me.

First off, the six days. The idea is that these millionaires meet people and get involved in their lives. But six days? Really? Seems like a short period of time. No wonder no one cares when they’ve been lied to come the final five minutes of the program. There is no relationship invested, spiritual or otherwise.

And the gripping thing about the show is the people with whom the millionaire meets, though we, the viewers, only meet them once or twice during the show. The millionaire seems flustered, little more than a waiting wallet. How come we don’t get to know these unfortunate better? Isn’t the show supposed to be about them?

The money, while I guess it’s good that the rich dude coughs up some cash in the end, is $100,000. No more or less. And here I take issue as well. What is the financial need of, say, the battered women’s shelter? How will the money be used? Why not more? Why not less?

And, in reality, none of this begins to solve the most basic financial needs of the poor and the organizations that serve them. In the book Rich Dad, Poor Dad, the author says that the major difference between rich and poor is an understanding of money. How it works and how to make it grow. I explore this some on my blog (shameless plug). In the end, it’s just cash. It’s not meeting any needs. At least the aforementioned “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition” is actually giving an item that meets, and often exceeds, people’s needs. Because of its time frame The Secret Millionaire is more akin to watching a suburbanite give $5 to a homeless guy on the corner. “Here’s your money. Nice to see you. Good luck.”

I don’t mean to trash the rich. The issue here, for me, is how does God want us to use our resources? I don’t believe, like some do, that God wants everyone to be wealthy and that the wealthy are somehow blessed by God. Nor do I believe that God loves the poor more than the wealthy and the wealthy are all damned to the umpteenth level of hell. The question is: “How should we, rich and poor, bless the kingdom of god with our wealth?”

The Fox show doesn’t even begin to delve into a secular version of such a question. Morgan Spurlock’s “30 Days” ventures into this kind of territory repeatedly. That’s what makes it great. TV is entertainment. And what’s entertaining is the characters, not the premise. That’s why we have 3 CSIs, 3 Law and Orders, NCIS, and 18 other cop shows. The material is worn thin but people still have something invested in the character’s emotional well-being. If we, as Christians, give, let us give because we do not merely want to make a financial investment, but a spiritual one as well.

For some time there have been Christian charities that have said: “Become a Christian and then we will help you.” That is not what I am talking about. I know people need their short and long term needs met. If a man is hungry you don’t give a seed and tell him raise crops, thus satisfying his long term needs while he starves in the present. Nor, is giving rice out to refugees a long term solution to any problem. Both are needed so people can be self sufficient.

As I look back at my many complaints about the show, my chief one is the mere six days spent inside a women’s shelter or a soup kitchen. Then I wonder, how many have even given that?

It’s nice to point fingers: “A mere 100k”, “6 short days”, “no spiritual investment in others”. But it’s an attempt at something good, I s’pose. I want to understand people’s needs and then, after some sort of relationship, begin to help. To offer services that help people understand their own finances. To offer a bed to the abused. To create spiritual healing whose spirit has been crushed.

It’s funny, only one of those affects the poor. Our giving must go beyond mere economic status. The gospel is a gospel for rich and poor. It’s about people responding to God in ways that glorify Him. We can help the poor overcome economic disparity while teaching the wealthy that God has resources, has allowed you to use them, and expects a humble spirit when doing so.

The Secret Millionaire isn’t this. Not even a bad photocopy of it. It’s like doing the dishes and telling someone you swam the English channel.

I wound up here by means of an Emergent Village book group that meets in Baltimore. I met Assisting Priest Joan Stiles, a bleached blonde short-haired middle aged woman, while discussing Claiborne’s book Jesus for President. The group discussed much and varied in theological belief tremendously. Disagreement’s abounded. Surprisingly, no one argued. I learned about Joan, her Catholic past, her current priesthood and thought, surely, if there was anyone I would disagree with it was female priest at a pro-gay church. But Joan, like much of the world, was full of surprises. I found myself captivated with her outlook on our faith, her impression of God, her passion for Biblical authority.

A few months later the Reverend Flaherty, the Priest at Joan’s church, even came to the emergent church meetup group. A tall man, who dwarfs me, with long fingers, he strikes me as the sort of person who is easy to get along with. Perhaps that same young idealism that runs in all young people’s blood still runs in his. I found him quiet, questioning, firm in his convictions yet willing to hear others out. It’s hard to not like him.

I kept promising Joan I would come to Saint Sebastian’s but one thing or another always came up. Finally I told myself I was going. My wife watched the kids and I headed out the door.

About 20 people were sitting inside First United Church, where Saint Sebastian’s holds service. About half, from my count were openly gay. There was one family with two children, who, through paying attention, I learned had attended for at least two years. No other kids could I see. There was no piano or organ either, instead a middle-aged man in vestaments played the guitar while we sang hymns.

David Flaherty’s sermon was short compared to my mennonite sermons. Maybe about ten minutes long. He announced that one gay couple in the church was choosing to get “married” though it is illegal in Maryland. At the end of the month the Reverend will perform a ceremony and unite the two women. Everyone clapped. David made no less than two Martha Stewart jokes, one joke about decorating, and he makes all the church’s vestaments. I thought this rocked.

I had some tears in my eyes that were hard to wash out. I was thinking of how difficult it must be to be gay and Christian. Or, hell, anything and Christian. We have made a point to create churches for every sub-culture in the country. Gay Churches. Churches for young adults. Churches for old white people. Churches for blacks. Churches for hispanics. The list is endless. One thing is for sure, while Jesus was good at seperating the sheep from the goats, Christians are really good at further dividing up the sheep. We’re like Babe the pig making sure we are all in the correct pens.

Holy fuck, I get aneurism just thinking about it. Is all of this really necessary? I wish we could get along better. I wish people in these sub-cultures felt welcome. I wish we felt comfortable in their churches. What the hell are we gonna do?

I hear all the time, from all types of people: “We need to get this subculture involved in our church.” But I never hear “I’m going to go over there”. We go where we are comfortable. I’m not sure this is such a good thing.

From what I saw I like what was going on Saint Sebastians. I wish they didn’t express the “progressive” thing so much just like I wish other churches didn’t express the “conservative” thing so much. I guess it’s all blowback.

A couple last thoughts:
How does the Mennonite Church become more welcoming?
Can we do it without sacrificing Biblical Truth?
Can we do it while maintaining our heritage?
If we become more welcoming will anyone want to come?

This last one I wrestle with. Every week North Baltimore’s (my church) doors are open to everyone. Yet, in my 18 months there, I’ve seen a handful of black people walk through the doors. Whites have outnumbered them 30 to 1. Nothing stopping blacks. Then again, nothing stopping my white self from walking into the First Gospel Tabernacle of Holy Jubilation either. But I don’t.

I don’t feel pressed to acquire a minority population of any kind like trading cards for my church. Yet, I feel saddened by the lack of unity amongst Christians as a whole.

Saint Sebastian’s is a place where homosexuals, and others, might be seperate from us now, but later, when it counts, they won’t be.

Is that good enough?

I walked up to the polls today to cast my vote. I was surrounded by a group people marketing for their respective politicians. An old man wearing a McCain hat, a heavy-set black woman enthusiastically waving an Obama sign. Another half dozen or so had signs with “Say yes to question 2″ or “Vote No on question 4″.

The Obama lady cheerily greeted me, quickly handing me some Obama brochures. “Have you decided who you are going to vote for, yet?” she asked.

I’m kinda private about this stuff but I was drunk so I responded: “Cynthia McKinney. She’s running with the Green party, you know. Her wackiness will make great Saturday night live fodder.” SNL is important to me and affects me weekly, thus being more important than any “serious” issue.

She got a strained look on her face. “Won’t you be wasting your vote with a third party choice?” she implored “You should vote for Obama or McCain, one of the two major parties. Would you consider Obama who shares lots of McKinney’s views.”

I thought about this for a moment. She had a good point. Wasting a vote on a third party was, in effect, like voting for the major politician I like least.

“I think you’re right.” I said. “I’ll vote for John McCain, that way my vote is not wasted on a third party.”

“But..” she stammered, surprised at this 180 in philisophical thought. She seemed at a loss for words. I could see her brain ticking away madly. Finally, after several tense moments, I could see an idea spark inside her skull.

“Maryland has gone democrat for the last 60 years. No Republican has ever won.” She seemed pleased at this turn of events.

“That might be true” I countered “but my vote will still be counted.”

She was unfazed. “Not so. Because Maryland will undoubtedly be won by Obama, and since the electoral college will place the winner with all electoral votes from our state, a vote for McCain is a wasted vote! Your vote won’t matter at all!”

She had me.

If my canidate had no chance of winning, then the vote doesn’t matter. I had no reason to be at the polls at all. If Maryland went 49% McCain and 51% Obama, Obama would receive 100% of the electoral votes. My canidate was surely screwed and, thus, my vote wasted. The only way my vote mattered was to vote for Obama. Surely, using the wasted vote philosophy, he was the only one I could reasonably vote for! I was cornered.

I was beginning to think that voting in any uncontested state was a pointless waste of time. I even got out my car keys and started to walk back to my 2003 Honda Element, which screams “outdoorsey” and “hip” too all who see me in it.

Just as I began walking away, though, I overheard the McCain guy say something important to another would-be voter “Did you know that if you vote today you can show your ‘I voted’ sticker at Starbucks and get a free coffee?”

I bustled my way into Engine House number 13 to cast my vote for the next leader of this great nation, the only person who would benefit from my vote, Mr. Barack Obama. It felt a little dirty.

An hour later I was sipping a delightful meledy of South American beans from a paper cup, my faith in American politics renewed.

God, Grant me the serenity,
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

This is an A.A. meeting.

Brian is celebrating one year. He is chairing the meeting, which means he gets to tell his story, speak however long he likes, and call on any member he sees fit to call on. Before any of that can begin, though, the various “officers” read off various lists of A.A. “rules”, “codes of conduct”, and other bureaucratic regulations. You would think these to be many considering A.A. has a reported 1,867,212 members worldwide with 106,202 meetings.

To put this in perspective A.A. is about the same size as Jehovah’s Witnesses, and larger than the Assemblies of God in the USA.

Although the room is entirely white and primarily male over 30 it manages to remain ecclectic. There are old men, men in suits, men in biker jackets, women in business suits, a punk rocker or two, a guy in a football jersey…I suspect that financially most are of differing means.

Someone reads the twelve traditions. Unlike the twelve steps, which tells the recovering alcoholic how to begin to repair his life, the twelve traditions guides each meeting, and A.A. as a whole, to its common purpose.

1) Our common welfare should come first; personal recovery depends upon A.A. unity.
2) For our group purpose there is but one ultimate authority—a loving God as He may express Himself in our group conscience. Our leaders are but trusted servants; they do not govern.
3) The only requirement for A.A. membership is a desire to stop drinking.
4) Each group should be autonomous except in matters affecting other groups or A.A. as a whole.
5) Each group has but one primary purpose—to carry its message to the alcoholic who still suffers.
6) An A.A. group ought never endorse, finance, or lend the A.A. name to any related facility or outside enterprise, lest problems of money, property, and prestige divert us from our primary purpose.
7) Every A.A. group ought to be fully self-supporting, declining outside contributions.
8) Alcoholics Anonymous should remain forever non-professional, but our service centers may employ special workers.
9) A.A., as such, ought never be organized; but we may create service boards or committees directly responsible to those they serve.
10) Alcoholics Anonymous has no opinion on outside issues; hence the A.A. name ought never be drawn into public controversy.
11) Our public relations policy is based on attraction rather than promotion; we need always maintain personal anonymity at the level of press, radio, and films.
12) Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities.

I get shivers down my spine.

These twelve traditions are so loose, so…vague, so unguided, so unprincipaled…it’s a wonder A.A. exists at all. Yet, it does. All over the world A.A. meetings look a lot alike.

I talked to Dan and several others about this. How on cruise ships they will set aside a time for A.A. meetings to take place. I ask him how A.A. organizes such meetings. The truth? They don’t. The cruise ships offer a time and place, participants converge, decide who will chair, and the meeting happens. Somehow, they manage to find a way to do all the important things a meeting is supposed to do. Amazing.

While A.A. is not a Christian organization, they require a belief in God, or, what they often call a “Higher Power”. They state that A.A. is an agnostic organization, in the sense that they do not proclaim God exists in any one religion but truely believe one exists. The book, Alcoholics Anonymous, more often called “The Big Book”, talks about this in depth. If you click the links you’ll see Alcoholics Anonymous posts the “Big Book” for free, to all, online. A quick search of the Catholic Church’s website, the Southern Baptist Church’s website, and, my own denomination, Mennonite Church USA, didn’t provide any free Bible Download anywhere.

Brian eventually began to call on various members of A.A. who all, when called on announced their name followed by the phrase “and I am an Alcoholic.” Everyone responds “Hi, Dave” or whatever their name happens to be. The stories are often funny, always poignant, and seemingly tell the truth. Everyone usually laughs at stories of near knife fights, DWIs and the cops who can always if you’re drunk, ex-boyfriends/girlfriends and their parents. And while we laugh, we laugh at tragedy, because behind the funny stories are lives being ruined. People begin to tell stories about meeting God, trusting him, praying to him. Guys in biker jackets hold back tears.

At the end of an hour a lady anounces that this is a “Chip Group”, meaning that if you’ve been sober you get a chip. She calls forward those who have been sober for 24 hours. Then 1 month. 2 months. 6 months. 9 months. 1 year. And more. And they come forward, take their chips with a sense of pride. They have been born again, celebrating their new birthday in sobriety.

We all stand up, form a circle, hold hands, and recite the Lord’s prayer. I’ve heard it a lot but still struggle with knowing it by heart. But here are these “agnostics” reciting it clearly as a group.

Our Father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy Name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
But deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
and the power, and the glory,
for ever and ever.
Amen.

I am left reeling, thinking “Why can’t church be more like this?”

Why can’t church say, like tradition number 5, “Each church has but one primary purpose—to carry its message to the heathen who still suffers.”

or, word for word, from tradition 12,

“Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities.”

Why don’t we in church, especially smaller churches, all join hands and pray at the end of service? Why don’t we allow each person a chance to speak? Why don’t we allow those with honest, careful, humble spirits, the opportunity to lead worship? Why do A.A. members have sponsors to help them grow but Christians need to disciple themselves? How come I felt the power of God move in this Agnostic organization but so often feel God struggle in my own?

At one point behind the movie theater there was a hill, relatively steep but not very tall. And it was here, on this small parcel of grass that I heard stories of people getting raped or mugged. I don’t know the truth behind any of that, I only heard the stories. Whenever possible, if I dropped an employee off at the station I see someone I knew who worked at the mall walking the course or waiting for a bus. I’d pick them up and give them a lift, even if I only knew their face.

(This will go somewhere useful, promise.)

One time I picked up a guy I figured to be gay. I gave him a lift. When I got back to the mall and some guys saw him getting out of my car and I got a bunch of shit for it. Another time one of my employees had walked the course. He told me some girl had slipped down the hill. It had recently rained and this girl’s white jeans were covered in mud, he told me. I instantly thought of Jeannie, a friend of mine, accident prone, who sounded like the perfect victim. Sure enough Jeannie came by ten minutes later covered in mud.

For some folks the world needs to be healed. Others just need a better way to get to the mall.

I’ve lived by this mantra as best I could. I’ve bought new clothes for a friend who threw-up on his own. And I’ve given rides to queer dudes and hookers. I haven’t brought world peace but I’ve brought a piece. I’ve never asked for anything in return, just tried to meet the need where I saw it. I’ve failed more often than succeeded, this much I’ll admit. But I’ve never felt that I put anything before the act of service. Indeed, even the hooker saw Christ in me before I mentioned him.

I thought that by being here I could extend an olive branch. Some of you thought I ranted. Others thought I was here to stir the pot or intentionally throw shit into the fan. I assure you, I’ve never intended any such thing. If you believe otherwise go back and re-read without tone and see if I said what you thought was said.

The only thing I ever wanted, from conservatives and liberals alike, was to stop putting stumbling blocks before Jesus. Stop demanding republicanism or nationalism or feminism or allegiance to anything else before Christ. This is my singular goal. To some people Christ has become the republican party. And others………well, other things. Other movements. Other ideas. Other cultural expressions of our faith. Christ has, to large degree, become topics and movements and isms which must be adhered to without fail before conversation or faith can begin. Even Tony Jones, a father of the emergent movement, has largely admitted it (though most likely unknowingly).

(I swear I’ll be more interesting in the near future)

The frustration felt in posts like “Tired” is a frustration felt online because here, in this virtual world, people are ideas not living persons. And when those people fail to alter their beliefs to fit our own we get frustrated. But who are we to demand that our isms are entirely correct and the way we see faith as seemingly blemishless? Aren’t such things merely stumbling blocks to Jesus?

Someone once said something akin to “Behind every liberal there is a fascist in waiting”. I believe one could say “Behind every person there is a fascist in waiting”. Someone inside all of us just itching to demand that others adhere to our beliefs. The problem is that none are Christ but Christ himself and if we believe we are faultless, as most actually do, then we are equating ourselves to divinity. Heresy.

Seeing my own hypocrisy has stung more than anything else. My olive branch left in tatters. The liberal side of me has been wounded by those who seek absolute allegiance to its agenda. The conservative half of me crushed beneath the waves of neo-con insanity. The mennonite part of me disappointed in seeing little talk of Christ.

I will enjoy the kids on my street. And my own. And my wife. I will continue to enjoy some aspects of church. But I cannot enjoy this board any longer. And I cannot enjoy hearing Church members talk about feminism or politics or any other divisive talk as if one much adhere to some unBiblical cultural standard before coming to a Biblical Christ.

I take a break from my attempts to ursurp totalitarianism from the pages of social justice based Christianity.

Afterall, even totalitarians need not stumbling blocks to come to Christ.

I am gone.

Hamilton is in N.E. Baltimore, which is in Maryland, which is in the Eastern United States located in North America. I’ve lived here for two years. I never thought I’d be an urbanite but it’s come to suit me just fine. I like the ice cream trucks, the mixed culture, a plethora of restaurants, the ease of commuting all over the city and burbs in minutes.

I wouldn’t say Hamilton is “The Hood”. It’s one zip code south of the county, the next town south is one of the better places to live in Baltimore, Lauraville, which insulates us. But like all urban areas there are very little guarantees. Some nights it’s quiet, other nights I can hear teenagers swearing loudly at 2am and there’s usually empty beer containers on my lawn in the morning. It’s easy to see that our relative peace hangs by a thread, whether it be the bloods graffiti or the drunks stumbling through our backyards at 11 pm, our quiet community is quietly at war.

But this isn’t a post about Hamilton. Or about urban warfare. Or about gangs. It’s about kids and watching them grow up in a weird ecclectic neighborhood.

My house teems with children from dawn to dusk in the summer. My wife and I have 4. Three live behind us, one across the street, one next door, two more down the street, and another a block over. Add in the 10 kids or so my wife babysits plus other kids in the area and my house is rarely without 10 children between the walls.

Most of the white kids, like Bryan, attend charter schools or private schools. Bryan has two dads, is my son’s best friend, attends a charter school, and seems to be like every 7 year old on the planet. Annoying, loud, a bit of a fibber…………an all around good kid by most accounts (no sarcasm intended. These things sum up about every 7 year old boy I’ve ever met.) Last year he was held back in the first grade despite my wife’s efforts to turtor him the last several months of the school year. He still has a lot of trouble reading after two years in the first grade.

The Bi-Racial kids down the street, too, go to a private Christian school. These are good friends of ours that go to the same house church. Their dad and I can talk sci-fi for hours on end.

But the mixed latino-white kids that live in the neighborhood go to the local public school. A friend of mine recently told me that our middle school was rated #3 for most acts of violence in the country. I couldn’t find that information online but these kids go there and I know of their struggles being both latino and white and attending such a heavily black school. In elementary school things are pretty easy but the oldest, Juan, faces problems of overt violent racism that the youngest two do not. Recently the guidance counselor recommended homeschooling; his mom, unaware that such a thing was even legal, learned my wife did just that and asked if we could homeschool Juan for her.

My wife has tutored a lot of kids that hang out in our house, either officially or unofficially. Many of them do not do well in school. When it comes to education even the charter school kids seem to have the deck stacked against them.

David is an 11 year old African American boy. Tall and lean he started coming to our home this summer. Most of the kids here are younger, 5-9 but David doesn’t seem to mind. I used to see him playing with some other kids in the neighborhood but when I ask him about them all he says is that they are mean. Like lots of Urban African American kids he doesn’t live with his parents. I keep telling him that I have to meet them so he can borrow “T” rated video-games (the tamer of which he always brings back within a day or two). Anyhoo, whenever I ask who he lives with he always says: “This lady” or “Mr. and Mrs. Turner” or some other ambiguous response. When I ask if he’s a foster child he says “I don’t know” then changes the subject so I suspect that he is (Foster children don’t like admitting the fact). He always offers to help mow the lawn or anything else I need, always picks up a crying child, he just seems to want to be loved. David not only breaks the stereotype of what an urban african american child’s attitude should be but he gives me hope that maybe not all the kids, regardless of race, are going to grow up to be selfish brats.

On the flip side I see what gang culture does to people. Stephen and his brother are two teenagers that live across the street. At one point in time, especially when we moved in, it was well known that if your kid’s bike went missing there was a good chance they took it. They’ve moved beyond bikes these days, and while polite to those they know, they lack any sense of the fact that they are surrounded by other people; music blares at all hours where profanity seems to be the subject matter. A couple weeks ago both were on the lawn in handcuffs with several police standing over them.

Michael is a black kid just next door to Stephen. At 6 he’s rambuncious and known to other parents as the kid that will hit someone or break something within five minutes of entering your home. His mom, I believe, does the best she can, but raising two kids alone is tough (his younger sister is a couple months old). He’s up at all hours, allowed to run the street unsupervised……….one has to wonder.

His neighbor is an 11 year mixed girl, Cindy, with a single mother. Cindy has helped out my wife from time to time watching the kids. She always seems to be in a good mood and willing to look out for all the other kids. She’s kinda like a little mother to some of the kids that hang out around her.

As is typical in most Baltimore neighborhoods we had a group of “feral children” as I like to call them. These are wandering bands of african american children that appear to belong to no one, live no where, and generally cause trouble. Ranging in age from 2 -7 these kids would come over from time to time. Often they’d steal anything they could get their hands on. Most didn’t speak, most didn’t know their ages. Sometimes I would pull into my driveway only to see 8-12 feral children playing in my backyard unsupervised. Go into rougher neighborhoods and feral children abound. Last month the feral children (well, their family) got evicted, just like John the Redneck promised (though he promised it sooner!).

Meanwhile I sit back and try to take it all in. Will Michael make it through school and become someone? Or will he join a gang or become like Stephen and his brother? How long will David last, being all sweet & quiet, in public school? Will he be moved to another foster home, if he’s in one at all? How long can Juan survive in a Baltimore City Public School? If he stays in will he become tougher and meaner so he can survive? Will he weaken and take the punishment given him? Will Bryan ever get a decent education, even at a Charter School? Will Cindy wind up a young single mom like her own mother? Will Stephen ever wise up and realize that there’s more to life than thuggery?

In this neighborhood anything is possible. A kid can hit bottom as easily as he can rise to the top. I’m proud to say that I consider all of these children and (most of) their parents my friends. When one of my kids has a birthday they all magically show up, even if they are uninvited (God Bless ‘em!); I’m running to the store to get a cake for an impromptu birthday party. If one kid gets hurt I carry them home, and if they get hurt on the street they run here asking for my wife to give them a band-aid or to settle some dispute (there are many!) or to ask if they can play Star Wars Battlefront on my PS2.

All these kids can drive a man up a wall (how many popsicle wrappers and sticks will I run over with the mower this week?; and how much screaming can one man take before developing a significant drug habit?). But it’s also nice to know that these kids, these people, depend on you.

I hope Baltimore doesn’t chew them up and spit them out. In fact, I pray for it.

When I admit this fact about myself I get asked “Don’t you like it?”, “Are you not into chicks?”, “What’s the deal?”. Honestly, I never thought porn was good thing. I became a Christian at 19 so I had plenty of heathen years to look at this shit but I never thought it was right. Yeah, I’d probably like it. I’d probably like crack too.

I consider myself lucky. I’ve never met a guy who is in my position; who by 28 has been so “clean” of the stuff. Women might not know it, and maybe I’m letting the cat out of the bag here, but nearly all guys, universally, look at porn. Sorry to blow your cover fellas.

Anyway, an old Pastor of mine moved out to Arizona a couple years ago to start yet another church. He met this girl who used to be a very successful porn star. She comes to his church and is very vocal about her past. I’d post her myspace and what-have-you but I don’t feel like it’d be appropiate. So my old Pastor likes to make movies and they thought it’d be cool to make sort of an “inspired on a true story” type flick about this girl. They posted a “making of” online.

What got me, what really shocked me, were the negative responses people placed in the comments section. Not stuff like “Christian movies are dumb” or “The acting is so bad” or anything like that. No, what happened was nothing short of a full-fledged personal attack on Chrissy with some very vulgar things said. It seems to me that the online porn community found out about Chrissy’s little indie-movie and decided to wage war against her.

Maybe I’m wrong, I hope so.

The types of things said reminded me of something you’d say in a drunken rage after finding out that your girlfriend slept with your best friend. It seems as though that since Chrissy is unwilling to do porn anymore her fans feel like she is cheating on them. Now she is a “whore” that still likes “cock”. Funny how once a girl leaves the porn industry she becomes a “whore”. Funny how it seems like some of these fellas are genuinely jealous of a girl who won”t take off her clothes in videos anymore.

It seems that modern thought has left us in a bit of a quandry. On the one hand women wanted equality, a fine and fair thing to want. But with that sexual equality. This meant that women, at least some of them, wanted to become as sexual as men. Probably to the detriment of both genders this has happened to a large degree. Women though were left perplexed, how can you overcome male oppression by giving men more sex? And is a woman expressing her sexual side through a pornographic magazine a blow to or for women’s rights?

The problem that I see is that such a thing is not “for” anyone. Men seem to objectify women more so than usual and women seem hurt, not edified, through this “sexual revolution”. Call me crazy, but these guys who saw Chrissy’s videos seemed to think that she was theirs. And Chrissy, probably at the time, thought she expressing herself through her sexuality. The whole thing appears to be a lie to everyone.

Well, I guess that’s it. I’ll be beating my wife and reading Guns and Ammo if you need me.

It was a great service. Lots of people showed up. My father, extremely active in AA for nearly 20 years, had lots of drunks show up. We had an AA meeting during one of the viewings. My pastor said it was one of the most spiritual things he’d ever been too. A kid from church played Amazing Grace on the bagpipes at the cemetary. It was all very surreal.

But then the business starts. Emptying out the apartment. Calling the creditors. Finding the life insurance. Calling someone to pick up the junk; clothes, shoes, furniture……..shit nobody wants. The majority of it no one wanted. My father had little in way of assets. His TV was mid-80s. He had a 5 year old car. Clothes. A couple board games.

I’ve always been told that garning stuff was pointless. I’ve always believed it too. I’ve read Ecclesiastes 6 dozen times. I thought I got it. I didn’t. I had no idea.

My father was in the National Guard. Had nearly 30 years at Westinghouse as a mid-level manager building radar equipment. Laid off in the mid-90s and went to work for a marketing company. I had to wonder as I looked at the mounds of clothes 6 feet high, the silverware, the furniture: “over 40 years of working and this is it?”

I’m all about math. Let’s say my father earned 30k a year for 40 years. He earned much more than that, especially during his Westinghouse days. $30,000 X 40 = $1,200,000. A closet full of clothes is his best financial asset (minus the life insurance). You’ve got to be kidding me.

What did we keep? Pictures. Loads of ‘em. A handgun from a distant cousin who served in WWI plus a helmet and ammo belt. Letters from an old girlfriend when he served in the Guard. Personal stuff, memories, that shit is worth something. The TV my father spent years watching? Off to Goodwill. The clothes? Gone. Furniture? Had it hauled off. Friends, family, good times, are highly valued. I’d kill for 100 more pictures of my father. I recorded his voicemail on he had on his cell phone before I cancelled the service (A generic message where my father only says his name. It’s the only time I can still hear his voice.)

It makes me think of how pointless our consumerism has gotten. We gain all this shit and when you die no one wants it. We want more good times. More memories. More vacations. More ballgames. A chance for my kids to see him at their birthday parties. To know that my youngest children will have memories of him.

I won’t get them.

I thought I had a good grasp on this concept. I thought I really understood it.

I had no idea.

I was discussing the gentrification of Baltimore recently online. I understand concerns about urban gentrification and I partly agree with them. I can certainly understand wanting to keep neighborhoods in the hands of neighbors, not gianormous corporations and urban planning bureaucrats trying to utilize Eminent Domain to kick people out of their homes.

Part of our discussion centered, and others I’ve had, with the systematic racism of Baltimore in particular. It got me thinking about racism more, a topic which most of you know I could really care less about.

I was thinking about the illegal South American immigrants here in the states that are causing such a stir. Group A says that South Americans don’t speak english, don’t pay taxes, suck up government funds, and steal American jobs. Group B says that there is an oppressed group of people and Group A consists of racist rednecks.

Neither group addresses the other group’s concerns as having any merit and they argue with each-other by trying to prove their own grivences. Debate 101, people.

Notice that Group A’s gripes are almost entirely economic in nature. You could perhaps say that not speaking english is a concern dealing with race, there is probably a good bit of truth in it; but all other concerns are economic, not racial. The affect of this appears as hostility toward a race and it will become so (More on this in a minute). Meanwhile, Group B shouts “racism” with little evidence, nor does shouting names really do anything to solve the problem. You won’t find middle ground by starting conversations with cheap insults.

Whether the groups are Whites against Native Americans (land/resources), Whites against Blacks (slave issues/jobs/equal pay), Blacks against Asians (stores in black neighborhoods), Blacks against African-born blacks (overall snootyness), Blacks against Whites (Reparations/Social Welfare/Housing/Jobs)………all of this stuff has deep roots mounted in issues of economic equality. Yes, from time to time there are issues outside of economic ones, I won’t deny that. But economic equality seems to quell much of all this distress.

When the government denies groups of people economic opportunity (blacks) or when they abuse certain groups for resources so others can have them (taxpayers & illegals) you breed animosity. We have the luxery of doing this for nearly 500 years so you’d think we’d learn. Instead we dole out resources to non-taxpayers from taxpayers………then we add in a racial component (South Americans) and we’ve whipped up what we got: Economic unfairness puppeted by the state, which won’t do anything about the situation, in effect breeding racism (or scapegoating, a more proactive word) because we are giving perceived advantages to one group over another. Duh.

Is it really racism? Or is it something else……..something to do with money, employment, jobs, economic stability? Is it that we hate people because of skin color or maybe it’s easier to boil down our economic frustrations and blame someone we can point at.

Sight is man’s greatest strength. We rely on it more than any other sense. And when we are feeling down emotionally, depressed, saddened, frustrated………often our sight is what causes it. Could ethnicity be the scapegoat that we seek out when the shit hits the fan because we see it and it resonates with us to begin placing blame with our most valuable sense?

Am I blurring the lines between racism and economic freedom? Perhaps. Maybe it’s tough to tell where one ends and another begins. But I bet that if we could begin to develop economic opportunity you’d see less animosity between people. Instead we seem to truely believe that racism is rooted in how one perceives another’s skin tone. I don’t buy it.

I wanted to also discuss the affects of gentrification and money expenditures in Baltimore city but I expounded for far too long on race so I’ll leave it at this for the moment.

I thought I’d come clean.

But if weighing 120 pounds and still having the ba………er, guts to get into a moshpit is young then I’m by all means, “young”. And if by anabaptist you mean someone who is “born again” and typically might agree with where anabaptistism has been and seems to be going then call me an “anabaptist”. And if by radical you me someone who is willing to push the bounds of where Christianity and Anabaptism has been then I’m a radical.

I don’t want to get bogged down semantics here. You won’t hear me buy into viewpoints of the conservative or liberal viewpoints. I don’t by into PC new-speak and I won’t memorize any party’s or agenda’s mantra.

I thought I’d come clean.

Being on no-one’s team seems to make people think I’m against them. But then again I believe I’m on Jesus’ team. I think he’s taking me on a “radical” journey. A journey that’s still “young” though the story was made at the dawn of time. And a journey that requires us all to be “anabaptist” in the original sense of the word.

I want to be daring, to be fearless, purposeful, yet willing to accept new directions.

I don’t know what this means. I don’t know at all.

I thought I’d come clean.

Advocacy groups are dumb. There. I said it. You don’t have to agree with me, especially if you are part of an advocacy group. But someone had to say it and seeing as I’m the only one around here to take notice I had to speak up.

It occured to me recently at work that our mission statement, our objectives, everything that we say we are and what we do is a bunch of crap. We say we want to do something like “Provide the best resources in our field” or some junk like that. Look, all we want to do is make a profit and last until tommorrow. Isn’t that what everyone, organization or entity, is looking to do? If Ford Motor Cars’ objective is “To build the best dern motor cars in the world” and they come out with a line of clunkers do you think Ford will close their doors because they failed in their objectives? This is why when a friend of ours commits suicide, or a good restaraunt goes out of business or Seinfeld cancels his show we find it so perplexing. And entity that self ends goes against the natural order of things.

But wait! I’ve lost my train of thought on advocacy groups.

Look, advocacy groups operate in the same manner. Sure, they might have started out with the best of intentions (what is the road to hell paved with???) but gradually they lost their way. Take groups like the NAACP for example. They start out wanting something good………great even. Like not being lynched. I get that. You don’t want to be lynched and that’s a great cause to support. Then they want to be able to vote and sit on jurys. These too are great goals. Heck, the jury one even benefits me because serving jury duty sucks and if blacks can serve then I serve less often. Then they want to be able to share waterfountains and go to the same school. Not a goal as great as being able to vote but it’s still good. But eventually, when racism is harder to find, we get the delaware university crud of trying to make all white students admit they are racist, or the US Naval academy scandle where even though white women were sexually harrassed the NAACP turned into a racial matter, or the Duke University fiasco of last year, or the racist “deer head” scandle in a Baltimore City Firehouse (Google this stuff yourself. I’m an ostrich and it’s hard enough to type this. Besides, I’m lazy).

When an advocacy group runs out of things to advocate they will find things or make them up.

Women’s rights organizations have had a similar past. PETA is run by perpetual lunatics. Dobson rails against gays. The Christian church has found a new love with the republican party (Or maybe it’s an old love. I dunno. I can’t keep track of this stuff). The Homeschool legal defense fund gives money to anti-homosexual organizations.

Look, it’s not that I’m for or against something like the homosexual lifestyle (or whatever. I can’t even keep the PC terms these advocacy groups keep creating straight. And by “straight” I don’t mean anti-gay because I’m not anti-gay or anti-homosexual or anti-queer……….did I break the PC code in an attempt to keep it? Crap. This parentheses thing keeps getting longer.) Why should I devote time to equal rights for gays or for the protection of the family? Do either of these things bring people closer to the kingdom? (Can an ostrich get into the kingdom?)

Advocacy groups, particularly of the political variety, either want you as an ally or as an enemy. And this really isn’t the message of Christ is it? Why are Christians a part of these divisive things?

I was a big supporter of Ron Paul. But I didn’t give money to his campaign nor did I make a single meetup event. If I can’t give time to Jesus why should I give my time to Mr. Paul?

As Christians, if we fill our time supporting advocacy groups and not Jesus then we truely have missed the bus/boat/gokart. There’s The World Bank, and Westboro Baptist Church, and Circus’ to protest. Signs to make. Animals to save. Chants to write and drums to beat………………….but if it ain’t for Jesus then what good is it?

This up-coming election has brought up, once again, universal healthcare. I’m a capitalist and opposed to big government. But I also know “wrong” when I see it.

There’s something seriously wrong with healthcare in this country. I feel, as many do, that the insurance companies are out of control. My capitalist perspective leads to a couple conclusions:

A) Healthcare is out of reach for many Americans if their employer does not offset some of the cost (mine offsets 2/3rds!!!)
B) Few choose their own healthcare provider thus eliminating the free-market ideas that capitalists subscribe to. Employers choose for you.
C) Insurance companies do not actually provide a true service, they merely provide a means to a service.
D) Insurance companies make money by not providing the service they are supposed to provide, thus putting them at odds with themselves.

Picture it like this: Walmart takes your money from you when you leave with goods. If you want dishware you pick it up and on your way out the door they get money, everyone is happy with the transaction. But let’s say you paid Walmart $5 a month so that if you needed dishware you could come pick it up. Walmart, already having your $5 per month, would feel inclined to keep the money but not provide the dishware.

This is what insurance companies do. Then they put so much red tape around the service that nearly anything can be a reason to not provide care. I don’t even know if the insurance companies understand their own policies. An average person can’t comprehend this stuff.

I don’t know if universal healthcare is the solution to this mess but I do know that the insurance companies most certainly are not.

I’d like to see a system where people provide for themselves for small doctor’s visits: Checkups, physicals, dental cleanings but perhaps a universal system for catastrophic care. You get cancer, a car wreck, your spleen hemmorages on a rollar-coaster; we’d take care of you. Perhaps a dollar limit, any medical bills that go over $15,000 per year would be covered but if you run to the doctor for a cold you pay.

This would open up the market and bring prices down while creating a system that discourages abuse.

Will there be fraud? Yes. Corruption? Yes. Government handouts? Yes.

But guess what? There already are.

My Christian journey started at 18. Like all good stories this one had a boy and a girl. Like all bad stories about boys and girls nothing ever developed. But I did find Christ at 19 in a non-denominational church in suburban Maryland. Then again, maybe he found me.

After being “saved” (or whatever………I profess no knowledge of my salvation. I just trust it) the folks who “saved” me pretty abandoned me in favor of finding new souls. So I jumped ship and after some hopping wound up involved in an emergent church (though “how” emergent has been debated). But I saw a lot of the same things there that turned me off from previous churches. Cliques. Looks. One Christian-ese had been replaced for another. After five years I’d seen enough.

We church hopped for a while. Got kicked out of one church. Saw internal politics dominate another. Saw lots of American flags behind lots of pulpits.

I wound up attending a mennonite church about 8 months ago. And like all good stories it started with a girl, my wife. Like all bad stories she nagged me. She liked the Amish and thought they were cute or something. I tagged along. The sermon was very good so we stuck. People were trying, some failing, to obey the Gospel literally. Turn the other cheek, give to the poor, etc, etc. Jesus’ teachings are not easy to obey and here was group of people trying to obey his commandments.

I want to start a church in Baltimore. But I don’t know exactly what it should look like. I’m turned off by internal church power struggles, America worship, and “compassionate conservative” movement we’ve had of late. Of course, as a conservative I think we need to begin to redefine “compassionate conservative”.

I also like ostriches.